I popped out of my cocoon of pillows. I Plowed my feet into the back of my sisters car cushion, slumped back into a position I could get out of quickly, and packed up my ipod. Finally our car came to a complete stop. We hustle to get everything that we would need to take across to Martha’s Vineyard including our bikes.
It’s about ten minutes later when we get to the bus stop that takes us to the ferry terminal. We hustled are bikes over to the bus that’s about to leave when the staff informs us that this bus doesn’t take bikes. To our luck my brother and I had previously noticed a bike trail that takes you to the ferry terminal and decided we would definitely ride our bikes on trail next year rather than taking the bus. We were already going to push the clock if we were able to take the bus that was about to leave. So we had decided ourselves that we would bike the bike trail to get to the ferry.
We were forced to quickly explain the solution to our mom who took quick-witted convincing on our part before she understood. Moments later the wind gushed in our faces as we took off down the unknown over 4 mile bike trail. Once again we had the best of chances, the trail was as perfectly smooth as school floors after long weekends when they buffed every square inch. Before what even felt like a minute of whizzing by leaves and branches we reached the first intersection we had to cross. We were across within twenty seconds because only a couple of cars came by a minute. Several more minutes lapsed before we exited the refreshing, cool, lush woods into the ocean plant life. The next intersection had fewer cars come by but they were going at highway speeds. Immediately after, the trail came about fifty feet from the surf, going parallel to it. The sun pounded heat on our backs while we breathed in fresh ocean air. The contradicting factors made it impossible to go any faster or slower. If we weren’t rushed on time I probably would have stopped and dived in the cold water even though I wasn’t in my bathing suit.
Every now and then I watched the reeds sway with every gust of wind making their own little waves so it seemed as if they were mimicking the ocean. We slowly peeled away from the ocean, crossed a little rickety wooden bridge, and hit a wall of shade yet hot air that was the woods. We rode in comfort for a good while before anything besides woods was visible.
We came into the bike trail parking lot with lines dead center for the bike trail. We kept riding until the parking lot turned into a road to get to the parking lot but the bike trail continued on it. At one point there was an opening where you could see straight out onto the water and we noticed a little peninsula and remembered that the ferry port has a peninsula to one side. After conversing we concluded we were within three quarters of a mile from the ferrry terminal. Moments later we went under a bridge, that blended in with the trees perfectly, leading us magically to the ferry terminal parking lot.
Once our bearings were back we were able to find the ferry terminal so we could buy our tickets for the soonest leaving ferry over to Martha’s Vineyard. There was a freight boat docked that would soon either depart or unload the trucks and cars. As soon as I could formulate the words I commanded my brother to check the time. I was wondering if this was the ferry we desperately wanted to take and if so, was it coming or going.
“It’s eleven ten!” We exchanged looks of frustration. We both knew right then and there it would be about two hours before we got onto Martha’s Vineyard rather than about half an hour. Yet we kept on our path towards the terminal to get our tickets now rather than later in case they ran out. As we neared the terminal, there were people all sweaty from the heat and I noticed that it also seemed to consume me without any wind in my face, we came to a stop and parked our bikes. My brother lagged behind me as we entered the terminal when I halted in my tracks.
My sister, my other sister and Mother were all in the terminal. They all should be on the boat. I started towards them at a quick pace.
“Why are you still here?” I asked.
“We just got here,” my sister answered as she was still noticing we were both here. They all told us just to go get on the ferry before it leaves and that they would explain the story later. So my other sister and brother took the bikes on to the ferry and I just walked on with my sister and mother.
Moments after we got on the ferry the horn blew and then departed. We wove our way through the trucks and cars to get to the front where we found my dad, who drove the car that we take onto the ferry over to Martha’s Vineyard. Once we found a good empty place to stand we started sharing our stories and piecing them together. I ended up with this. My mother and my sister, who rode in the same car as me, took the bus to get to the ferry port. Ironically the bus they ended up taking was in fact a bike bus and the staff had been wrong. My dad and sister, who rode in the other car, got to the ferry on time. Unfortunately that sister had a child’s ticket which only I could use to board so she ended up waiting for the rest of us at the terminal. My dad drove onto the ferry without her. My brother and I got to the terminal just about a minute after my mother and sister got there, so they were able to buy the remaining tickets. Most importantly the boat departed ten minutes later than scheduled! That’s how our crazy ferry rides some how come together and workout fine in the end.
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